


On the Eve of Destruction, With This Righteous Man

by pennydreadful



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennydreadful/pseuds/pennydreadful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is ending again and Cas is still a virgin. Time for some de-hymenating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Eve of Destruction, With This Righteous Man

**Author's Note:**

> Set during 05x22, between Dean giving Sam his permission to jump in the pit and when they leave for Detroit. (Hey, there's enough time to have sex in that gap, it's dark when they're driving!)
> 
> Yes, I've landed in the Supernatural fandom!
> 
> **Since I get these questions a lot: I fully give my permission for anyone to translate any of my works into any language, make podfics/audiobooks out of them, or post them elsewhere (as long as you give me proper credit). Go for it, you don't have to ask! And thank you very much!**

"Fuck!"

That word being shouted from an angel's mouth sounded so strange, all three of them--Dean, Sam, and Bobby--turned to look into the kitchen. Cas stood in front of the sink, back to them, arms held out at his sides. Dean could hear the water running.

"Where'd you learn to talk like that, huh?" Dean asked, walking out to the kitchen to investigate what had just made an angel of the Lord drop an F-bomb.

As Dean stepped up to the sink, Cas flashed him an exasperated look.

"I'm older than you can fathom, Dean," he said. "Surely you're not going to lecture me about using foul language."

Dean looked at the running water, then at Cas's front--his shirt was soaked and clinging to his chest and water dripped from his overcoat.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"I was trying to wash the demon blood off my hands." Cas held up his hands, still stained pink. "Usually I can just make my vessel clean. But."

"Yeah." Dean reached over and turned the water off. "It's been a rough day, I get it."

 _Rough_ was an understatement. Dean had just more or less given his brother his blessing to jump into the pit, they'd drained a couple demons for Sam to drink in preparation, and they were leaving soon to go to Detroit and kick start the Apocalypse. As far as bad days went, it was pretty high up on the charts.

Also, their helper angel was now human and so clueless he couldn't work a faucet.

Dean grabbed Cas a towel. He shot Sam a look and Sam vacated Dean's line of sight. Dean was having a hard time looking at him right now and an even harder time figuring out what direction his emotions were going in. It wasn't every day you had to truss your brother up for the Devil.

"We're not leaving 'til this evening," Bobby said. "Still got some things to pack. You two might wanna get some rest. Especially you Dean, you're gonna be driving all night."

Dean grunted and handed Cas the towel. Bobby left. Cas dried his hands, slow and awkwardly, then dropped his arms to his sides and sighed, staring out the window. His sigh was a sigh of disgust, resignation, and frustration. It had to suck, wandering into the middle of this mess and being stuck helpless in a meat suit.

"Buck up, sunshine," Dean said. "Look at the bright side, by this time tomorrow we'll probably all be dead."

Cas looked at him, narrowed his eyes, and looked down at himself.

"These clothes are wet," he said. "Usually I can fix them as well if they become soiled."

Dean shrugged. "Guess you're gonna have to take care of it the way the rest of us lowly bastards do."

"What do you mean?"

"You have to change clothes."

"I don't have any of Jimmy's other clothing."

"We'll work it out. Come on."

Dean led him to the bathroom at the top of the stairs. Once they both got inside there seemed very little space in the narrow room so Dean left the door open. He turned Cas around and started peeling his overcoat off.

"How come you never wear any other clothes?" Dean asked as he jerked the sleeves down Cas's arms. "You can mix it up a little, you know."

"What purpose would different clothes serve? When I have my power, these clothes can't be soiled or destroyed. I neither understand nor have interest in the way humans use clothing to express and differentiate themselves."

Dean glanced at their profiles in the dingy mirror, Cas staring straight ahead and allowing Dean to undress him like a doll. Dean finished taking his overcoat off and dropped it on the sink counter.

"Shame," Dean said as he grabbed Cas's suit jacket and tugged it off his shoulders. "Cause Jimmy's not a bad-looking guy under all this frump." Once the jacket was off, Dean turned him around.

"I don't understand human standards of attractiveness either," Cas said as Dean started unknotting his tie. "The outer shells of humans don't interest me."

Dean arched an eyebrow. "No?" He slid Cas's tie off. "So what turns an angel's crank? What's the heavenly equivalent of a nice rack and a great pair of legs?"

Cas looked confused by the question. He glanced down as Dean began undoing the buttons of his wet shirt, then looked back up at him.

"Human souls are beautiful," he said. "I've seen yours. I know every inch of it."

Dean smirked. "Whoa there, Cas. Are you saying I have a tight soul?"

"I've held it in my hands. When I raised you up. I held it tight in my grip as I brought you back, slaying demons the entire way."

Dean's fingers fumbled on the last button of Cas's shirt.

"Oh," he said. "What did it feel like?" He forced another smirk. "I bet it was buzzing like a bee in a jar, wasn't it? All humming and pissed off."

The corners of Cas's mouth turned down. "No. It was quiet and tired. It tucked itself into the curve of my hand almost gratefully."

Dean stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. He motioned vaguely at Cas's shirt. "You can take that off. I'll hang everything up so it dries and you can put it back on."

Cas stared at him a moment, then slowly took his shirt off. Bruises and cuts in various stages of healing patterned his chest and stomach. There was also the red, scabbed-over lines of a sigil. He noticed Dean looking and touched a finger to it.

"This should have healed," he said, and winced. "But nothing has healed, obviously."

"I bet the doctors in the hospital were a little curious about that."

"They did seem unsettled by it."

Dean gathered Cas's clothes and took them out of the bathroom. There was one room upstairs in Bobby's house that could be considered a 'guest' room, as there was a narrow pathway from the door to the bed in the corner. Otherwise, the room was cluttered with crap and despite seeming innocuous, Dean wouldn't touch any of the boxes and containers lest something explode.

Dean found several hangers in the closet and hung up Cas's clothes on a rack near the bed. He returned to the bathroom, thinking Cas might have gone back downstairs, but he was still in there, arms crossed, shoulders hunched, looking vaguely distressed. Dean had never had opportunity to see Jimmy naked and realized now he actually had quite the tight little bod--narrow waist, flat stomach, some impressive muscle definition in his chest and arms. Apparently haggling with AM radio execs left plenty of time for hitting the gym.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, trying to distract himself from the fact he was just checking out Cas's meat suit.

"I'm…" Cas looked agitated again. "I'm cold."

Dean shook his head. "Welcome to the joys of being human. Hold on. I got something."

As Dean made to step out of the bathroom, Cas said, "Dean."

Dean stopped and looked around at him.

"I meant what I said. When I called you from the hospital."

Dean squinted. "About upsetting the sailors?"

"About you not being the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be."

Dean hesitated. "And I meant what I said when I said…thank you."

Cas stared at him a moment, then looked away, into the mirror, and gazed steadily into the glass as if trying to figure out his own face.

Dean went downstairs.

He didn’t run into Bobby or Sam so he figured they must have gone outside to take stock of their weapons and pack up the vehicles. Thankfully Crowley wasn't lurking around either. Dean went to the living room and grabbed his duffle bag, tossed it on the couch, and dug into it. He pulled out a t-shirt and a flannel.

Upstairs, he handed the clothes over to Cas. "Go change in the bedroom," he said. "First door on the right. I'll be there in just a minute. I wanna try to get a few hours of shut-eye, like Bobby said. But I have a feeling it might not happen, so you can sit there and keep me company if you want, talk to me about something. Keep my mind from going completely off the rails."

Cas stayed in the bathroom doorway a moment, looking at him, then finally moved off down the hallway clutching the shirts.

"Put the one with the short sleeves on first!" Dean called after him.

Dean took a piss, washed his hands and face, and stared at himself in the mirror for a few minutes. The sound of a door opening and closing downstairs stirred him from his reverie. He dried himself off, left the bathroom, and went to the bedroom.

Cas sat on the bed, hands resting in his lap, gazing contemplatively across the room. He'd put the t-shirt and flannel on. He looked up at Dean as he closed the door.

"You put them on right," Dean said as he made his way to the bed.

"I have observed how you wear them. They are warm, thank you."

Though Dean tried to ignore the feeling, seeing Cas in his clothes did something weird to him. Something curled in his stomach and swelled in his chest. The flannel was too big on him and draped over his hands and pooled on the mattress around him. Dean sat down heavily next to him, making the bed shift.

"See, these look better on you." Dean swatted at the flannel. "You need a wardrobe change."

"As I said, clothes mean nothing to me."

Dean worked his boots off, then pushed his body back and up on the bed and flopped down on his back. He drew a heavy, exhausted sigh and stared up at the ceiling.

Cas remained sitting up. Dean looked over at him.

"You can lay down with me, if you want," Dean said. Cas looked around at him and Dean felt a little stupid. "I mean, you can lay down and rest too, if you want. There's no other comfortable surfaces in this house, trust me."

Cas didn't move and Dean shrugged and rubbed his eyes. But then Cas looked down at his feet and worked his shoes off too. He lay down next to Dean and folded his hands on his stomach. Dean edged over against the wall. They lay in silence.

"Do you really think the world will end tomorrow?" Cas finally asked.

Dean huffed out a breath. "Yesterday, I sat at a table and ate pizza with Death. I thought he was going to squish me like a bug, but instead he willingly gave me the final key to send my brother to Hell. So…I really can't tell you what's going to happen."

"Uncertainty is part of the human condition as well."

"I think it's part of everyone's condition these days."

***

Dean managed to doze off. He had a strange dream, in which he was engulfed in light and resting somewhere soft and warm, as if snuggled into a mound of blankets fresh from the dryer. He felt safe there, like when he was a little boy, tucked under his mother's arm as she read to him in bed at night.

He opened his eyes and the light in the room had faded to deep yellow and slanted against the wall opposite the windows. He'd rolled onto his side. Cas was facing him and his eyes were closed, his face slack.

Dean realized with a start they were holding hands, resting in the space between their respective pillows. Dean lifted his head and stared at the sight.

Cas opened his eyes a slit.

"You clutched my hand in your sleep," he whispered. "I did not see a reason to deny you."

Dean lowered his head back to the pillow. He didn't let go.

"I think I was dreaming about you carrying my soul." He flicked his gaze around the room, then back to Cas's face. His eyes were fully open now.

Silence. The house was quiet around them.

"May I ask you a question, Dean?" Cas's voice remained soft, not disturbing the peace. The calm before the huge storm.

"Yeah, shoot." Dean yawned and stretched his legs. He unclasped his fingers from Cas's and stretched them as well, but then eased them back into place.

"The last time the world was ending," Cas said, "you were so insistent I must not die a virgin you attempted to orchestrate fornication between a woman of ill repute and myself."

Dean smirked, closed his eyes, and nuzzled into the pillow. "Yeah, that sounds like me."

"Do you not recall?"

"I do. It was just a…never mind." He opened his eyes. "Was that the question?"

"I am still a virgin."

"That sucks. I don't think we have time to visit another den of iniquity, though. Nevada is kind of in the opposite direction from where we're going."

Cas frowned. His hair was mussed and coupled with the unusual clothes he looked almost--cuddly.

"I understand humans must find each other's bodies appealing in order to feel sexual attraction," Cas said. 

"It helps." Dean was nearly ready to drift back to sleep.

"Do you find this body appealing, Dean?"

Dean snapped wide awake.

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Oh, wait." Cas furrowed his brow. "You do not find male bodies appealing, right?  You like female bodies."

Dean opened his mouth. Then he closed it and cleared his throat. "That's--complicated, actually. Really complicated."

Cas stared at him.

"The simple answer is I like both." Heat flashed across Dean's cheeks. "Don't…tell anyone that, all right? Keep it to yourself."

"Who would I tell?"

"If it ever comes up in conversation, just play dumb, all right?"

Cas didn't seem to follow. "So do you find this body appealing?"

He delivered the question with no particular weight or emotion, as if Dean could answer either way and his response wouldn't bother him.

"I--it's all right." Dean's throat tightened. "In a narrow, slight sort of way, I guess. It has…" Describing Cas objectively seemed strange. "You have nice eyes and lips."

Cas pursed his lips and puckered them out, trying to look at them. He stopped and looked at Dean again. "Are those things important for sexual attraction?"

"They're nice to look at." Dean propped himself up on his elbow. "Cas, what are you getting at?"

"Would you like to have sexual congress with this body?"

"Oh God, that's what I thought you were getting at."

"Do you wish to, then?"

"Cas." Dean held up a hand. He chose his words carefully. "Sex is more complicated than that, all right?"

Cas narrowed his eyes. "Explain."

Dean sighed. "It's more than about the body, okay? You're still inside the body--in your case, very literally. You're my friend, Cas. If we have sex, I'm not just having sex with your body. You're in there too and there are…complications, when it comes to that. Things you have to account for. Feelings and stuff."

Cas looked as if he were considering the explanation. Dean hoped it made sense. He didn't want to have the 'will you still respect me in the morning?' talk with him.

"But what if the…" Cas started haltingly, "what if the…me…inside this body wants to have sex with you too?"

Dean stared at him.

"Is that right? Does that make sense?"

"You--want to have sex with me?" Dean fixed him with a pointed look. "Do you even understand human sex?"

"Yes."

"Do you really?"

"Yes." Cas rolled onto his back. "I've observed humans for more of your lifetimes than you can count."

"Just because you been spying on people in the sack doesn't mean you get it, Cas. Watching and doing are two different--"

His words were cut off as Cas shot up and in one movement, caught the back of Dean's neck with his hand and pressed his lips to Dean's. Dean immediately put his hand to the middle of Cas's chest to push him away, but for some reason, stopped short of doing so.

The kiss on Cas's part was sloppy and uncoordinated, overeager like a virginal teenager--which he essentially was--but thoughts bloomed in Dean's brain like the seeds had been there all along, waiting for the sun to hit them. First and foremost was the giddy revelation that Cas's lips were as plump and firm as they looked.

Dean kept his hand on Cas's chest, Cas's heartbeat thrumming against his fingertips. Dean stayed still while Cas experimented with sucking and pressing, then Dean opened his own lips and gently guided him, showing him how to do it properly.

Cas eased back onto the pillow and Dean followed him. When Cas started to get the right idea, Dean broke the kiss and lifted his face away to gaze down at him.

Cas's eyes were wide and shining and impossibly blue, ignited by the afternoon light.

"Cas," Dean said roughly. He clenched his fist on the pillow next to Cas's head, fighting the urge to run his fingers through his hair. "This is…we really shouldn't…"

"Dean." Cas's voice was low and soft, the exact level that spoke far too much to Dean's crotch and not enough to his brain. "Tomorrow may be the end, of everything. Does it really matter what happens in this bed, right now?"

He had such a way of getting to the point.

"I guess not. But, uh. Cas." Dean lowered his gaze. He watched the fluttering of Cas's pulse against his throat. "I've never…with a guy. Not all the way, anyway. I mean, some stuff, but--" He looked back up into Cas's eyes and they were questioning. "I'm saying I've never had sex with a guy."

"Neither have I."

Dean almost laughed because, of course.

"Are you sure you want this?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded, once. "Yes, I am certain. Do you want this?"

Dean uncurled his fist. He slid his hand down the bed, hesitantly, then placed it over Cas's hip. His body felt so small under his hand, and he wanted to close his fingers over that slim curve, clutch it possessively. Had he always wanted that?

Dean's mouth had gone dry. He swallowed. "Yes," he whispered. "I think I do."

"Then we should."

Dean looked down and watched his hand as if it belonged to another person, sliding across Cas's stomach, pushing up his shirt-- _his_ shirt--exposing the tight, flat plane he saw in the bathroom. Cas's muscles twitched and tightened under Dean's fingers, his skin warm and smooth, and whatever he was right now, human or angel, he felt _alive_.

Dean looked at Cas's face and Cas parted his lips, just a little, as if in surprise, or longing, or maybe both.

"I do find this body attractive," Dean said, and slid his hand up higher, under the shirt and up to his chest.

"That's good. It will make this more pleasant for you, right?"

"I hope so. At least less awkward."

Cas lifted a hand and settled it on Dean's shoulder. Over the mark he'd left there. "And I suppose," he said, "your body is also pleasant, by human standards."

Dean chuckled, his hand splayed now between Cas's bare chest and the shirt. "Your sweet talk could use a little work. Sorry I can't, I dunno, let you fondle my soul or something."

"I can almost feel it under your skin." Cas slipped his hand up under the sleeve of Dean's shirt, to fit perfectly into the grooves of the scar. "I can see it in your eyes."

Dean stared down at him, their gazes locked so tight Dean couldn't drag his away if he wanted to. "That turn you on?" Dean whispered.

"Yes."

Then Cas kissed him again, more sure this time, passionate and deep. Dean lost his last tenuous grip on bullshitting himself and slid his arm under Cas's back. He hauled Cas's lithe body against his own and rolled onto his side, locking their legs. In the process Dean brought their groins flush together, pressed their chests together, slotted them together in a way that couldn't be construed as anything but sexual. Dean smoothed his hand down the curve of Cas's spine and was amazed at the way desire chased after it to grip him by the wrist and inject itself straight into his veins.

Dean broke the kiss, dragged his cheek across Cas's jaw to experience the rough slide of his stubble, and sucked at his neck. Cas breathed hard, the fast thump of his heart like a trapped bird between them. Dean slid his hand lower and gripped the small, tight swell of his ass.

"Dean," Cas gasped out, close to his ear. "Where do I--tell me how to touch you. Where do you like to be touched?"

"Touch me everywhere," Dean said gruffly against his throat. "Just put your hands on me."

Cas did, running his hands over Dean's back, his arms, his neck, through his hair, over whatever he could reach. Dean moved his mouth lower on his neck, nuzzling into the collar of his shirt and smelled--himself, on Cas's skin. It was too much. Dean jerked his hand up from his ass to his side and gripped the t-shirt, twisted it tight in his fist over Cas's ribs. Cas gasped and jerked his hips.

"Dean."

"You all right?" Dean moved back up to his lips.

Cas gazed at him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed. He nodded and looked down between them.

"I'm erect," he said, sounding surprised.

"Makes two of us."

"It's the proper response to sexual stimulation, I know. I've just never experienced it."

Dean licked his lips. "You like it?"

"It's pleasant. But distracting."

"Just means you're horny." Dean kissed the hollow of his throat. "It's a nice feeling, isn't it?"

"Are you also--"

"Very."

Dean pressed his hips tighter to Cas's and rubbed against the firm bulge in Cas's pants. Cas's breath caught. Dean kept hold of the shirt and ground against him, breathing deeply against his throat.

"I can feel you," Cas whispered. "You're very hard."

Dean let go of the shirt and gripped Cas's hand, where it rested on Dean's side. Dean guided it down and inward, until he pressed Cas's palm over the crotch of his jeans. He encouraged Cas to rub, keeping a grip on his wrist, and lifted his face to suck at his lips a moment before drawing off with a shudder.

"Is this how you want me to touch you?" Cas's voice was thick and shivering in the space between their close-pressed faces. "Is this good?"

"Fuck yes." Dean bit out the words, almost immobilized with desire. He jerked against Cas's hand.

"Will you touch me there also?" Cas asked, and he sounded so much like he really wanted it Dean couldn't stand it.

"I got something even better for you."

Dean pushed him onto his back and sat up before he lost his nerve. Cas's hand fell away from Dean's crotch and he lay prone, staring up at Dean, expression wondering but also muddled with human desire. Dean started undoing Cas's pants.

Cas watched passively as Dean hauled them and his briefs down over his hips and yanked them down his thighs. Cas's cock, rigid and flushed, arched toward his belly and he gazed down at it with curiosity; getting a good look at it hard for the first time, no doubt. It had to be trippy as hell. Dean clutched Cas's bare, narrow hips and caressed his thumbs up the smooth, tight lines of each ilium. He took a deep breath and lowered his head.

Cas gasped when Dean traced the curve of his shaft with his tongue. Cas gasped louder when Dean reached the head and tucked the tip of his tongue under the ridge and swirled it, slow and firm, all the way around. Dean had done this before, just a few times, but enough to have some technique. He gripped the base of Cas's cock and lowered his mouth.

Cas touched the back of Dean's head, fingers scrabbling weakly in his hair, too short there for him to get a grip on.

"Oh," Cas said, and his voice caught jagged and came out a little too loud. "You're orally pleasuring me."

Dean ignored the commentary and sunk his mouth lower, until he couldn't take any more, then pulled back up, the shaft sliding across his tongue, the head gliding smoothly against the roof of his mouth. He repeated the action a few times, until his jaw was comfortably widened, and gripped what he couldn't take in his fist to provide stimulation.

Cas tried to jerk his hips up and Dean held them down with his free hand, gripping tight over his right hipbone. Cas kept his hand on the back of Dean's head, squeezing, clawing. Dean could hear him breathing fast, felt his stomach working against his forehead.

"This is pleasurable," Cas said, sounding anxious. "Do you want me to have an orgasm now?"

Dean was confused by the question, but reminded himself Cas was confused as well. He pulled off him, saliva slicking his chin, and licked his lips. Cas's eyes were so wide they looked ready to pop out of his head.

"Not yet," Dean said. "And you can't just pick when you have one. I have to sort of…get you there."

"I think I want to have one." Cas pushed his hips up so his cock slid smoothly through the circle of Dean's fist. "Oh. More of that, please."

"You will have one. But not yet. Calm down."

Dean tried to go back to sucking him, but Cas squirmed so much he couldn't keep at it long. Dean stopped, let go of him, and sat up. Cas reached down and gripped Dean's thigh, desperation now obvious on his face.

"It's all right," Dean said, and popped the button on his jeans. "I got you. Just breathe."

Dean slid his zipper down and Cas seemed eager to explore. He helped push Dean's pants down and tugged at the elastic of his underwear. Dean tucked his hand inside and pulled his cock from the warm, slick cotton and shuddered when Cas immediately wrapped his hand around him, simultaneously sitting up and forward to get a better look.

"You're very wet," Cas said wonderingly, smoothing his hand up Dean's cock.

"Yeah," Dean grunted out. "I leak a lot." As if to demonstrate, a clear glob of fluid eased from the tip of his cock and dripped onto Cas's wrist.

Cas looked down at his own cock, then back at Dean's. Dean shrugged.

"Everyone's different." He took Cas's hand and showed him how to move it up and down. "See, you can use it to stroke me. Makes it smoother."

Cas was a quick study. Dean groaned as Cas picked up a rhythm, hand gliding slickly as Dean's cock pumped out more fluid.

"Should I pleasure you with my mouth as well?" Cas asked, turning his gaze up to him.

In truth, there was nothing Dean wanted more than to feel those plush lips around his cock and see Cas's plaintive blue eyes looking up from his groin. However, he didn't have the patience right now to teach him the finer points of giving head.

"You don't have to." Dean caressed Cas's wrist, and then, though it almost physically hurt to do so, he made him stop stroking. "Come on, let's get our pants the rest of the way off."

They both got out of their pants and underwear and chucked them off the bed. Cas still had his socks on and Dean took those off him as well, because he felt weird having sex with socks on. Dean then pulled his own shirt up and off.

Cas sat up and moved to do the same thing, but Dean stopped him.

"You look good in my shirt." Dean kissed him. He gripped the flannel and pulled it off Cas's shoulders. "Just take the top one off."

"I don't understand. I thought humans liked to be naked for sex."

"We do, sometimes. But it's like…I don't know. I guess like marking my territory. You in my shirt makes me feel--possessive."

Cas looked curiously at him as Dean finished pulling the flannel off and tossed it away. Dean took Cas's hand and placed it over the mark on his shoulder.

"Like this," he said, looking into Cas's eyes.

Cas gazed back at him. "Dean," he said, "this is not a mark of possession, it's--"

"Isn't it?" Dean whispered.

They stared at each other a moment. The shadows were deepening in the room. The light in Cas's eyes had dulled, the blue of his irises darker. He didn't speak, only parted his lips slightly as his gaze grew more intense.

Dean sat up on his knees, gripped Cas around the waist and hauled him into his lap, and rested back on his calves. Cas wrapped his legs around Dean's hips, whether instinctually or something he'd observed, so their bodies fell together perfectly. Dean caressed his hands up and down Cas's sides, under the shirt, dragging his fingers over his ribs, over his hips, and gripped his ass tight and hauled him in closer. Their cocks rubbed together hot and slick, sliding between their stomachs.

Dean stretched up to suck at Cas's lower lip and let it go with a soft pop. "We need some lubrication," he said. Dean kneaded and parted Cas's cheeks, and pressed the tip of his index finger against the tight knot of muscle nestled between them. Dean guessed nothing had ever gone up there before.

"There's plenty here," Cas said. He pushed a hand between them and rubbed his palm across their cock heads.

Dean brought his hand around. He swirled his fingertips over the copiously leaking head of his own cock, then added a generous wad of spit, before reaching around again.

Cas gasped, thighs clenching around Dean's hips as Dean eased two wet fingertips into him, just a little, just enough to start opening him.

"Hey," Dean said, and gripped his hip with his other hand. "You gotta relax, okay? Just breathe and let everything go all loose down there."

Cas dropped his face down close to Dean's and pulled in slow, deliberate breaths. He relaxed a little around Dean's fingertips and Dean carefully pushed one finger in past the first knuckle.

"Oh that's…that's a strange sensation," Cas said. "I have not felt anything like that in this body."

"Yeah, it's kinda weird, huh?"

"Have you experienced this feeling?"

"I've had fingers up there a couple times, yeah. It gets less weird after a while."

Dean gradually relaxed him enough to get his entire finger in. Cas seemed to be struggling not to squirm, clenching his thighs, gripping Dean's shoulders. Dean pushed his hips up and rubbed their cocks together. Their groins were soaked.

"Here," Dean said, and slipped his finger out of him. "Lay back down." He eased him out of his lap.

Cas lay back and Dean hauled one of his legs up, utilized another wad of spit, and went back to fingering him. When he opened up a little more, Dean worked a second finger in. Dean leaned over him, braced on his other hand, and gazed down at his face. Cas held his leg back and alternated between staring up into Dean's eyes and watching Dean's arm working.

"You okay?" Dean asked, afraid to speak above a whisper, above the soft, slick sounds from below.

Cas nodded. "You're right, it feels less strange now. I am more relaxed."

"You feel like you're ready?"

"I cannot accurately answer that. I have no precedent to base a decision on."

Dean quit working his fingers inside him and pushed up, as deep as he could get. None of Dean's partners, male or female, had ever managed to properly stimulate, or in most cases even find his prostate. He knew how to get to it himself, but he was coming from a different angle. He finally located the bulge and rubbed gently.

Cas's toes, hovering close to Dean's shoulder, curled, and his throat convulsed, but he didn't let out any sound, just looked like he was choking on something. _Goddamn_ , that was sexy.

Dean smiled smugly and slid his fingers out; then he groaned, not in pleasure, but frustration.

"Is something wrong?" Cas asked, his voice breathy and weak.

"My condoms are in my bag," Dean said. "And I left my bag downstairs. Wasn't exactly planning on…you know. This."

"Are condoms required?"

Dean wiped his slimy fingers on the blanket. "Well, I can't exactly knock you up, but humans are prone to all sorts of nasty, oozing diseases you can pass around with your dick."

"There are no diseases in this body."

"Yeah, but you don't know where I've been dipping my stick, if you get my drift."

"You couldn't pass a disease to this body, either. It's impossible."

"It was impossible when you were an angel, yeah. But you're kinda human now, aren't you? And what if you never change back?"

Cas narrowed his eyes. "Isn't the world ending tomorrow?"

Dean blinked. "Good point." He urged Cas to put his leg down. "I wish I had the lubrication on the condom though, it'd make this easier."

"You're dripping on my thigh right now. Is that lubrication not adequate?"

Dean looked down at his cock, a glistening strand of pre-come connecting the head of his dick to a sizeable wet patch on Cas's thigh. "Yeah, I think it'll do."

It did do, a minute later as Dean eased the head of his cock into him. Cas had chosen to stay on his back, knees drawn up, with Dean over him. Cas sat up on his elbows, stomach muscles bunched below his hiked-up t-shirt, watching between them as Dean gripped his cock and carefully sunk into him, one easy inch at a time.

Then Cas moaned, loud, full-throated, and Dean looked up at him in surprise.

Cas gaped at him, his face cast mostly in shadow now but his eyes glittering, his mouth open.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I couldn't control my vocalization."

Dean chuckled and dipped down to kiss him. "Don't apologize. You moan all you want to. It's a compliment."

Then Dean sunk fully into him and Cas did moan again, into Dean's mouth, and Dean answered with one of his own.

They had to shift around a bit to get comfortable, finally settling with Cas's legs locked around Dean's lower back, hips tilted up. He put his arms above his head and Dean linked the fingers of one hand through his.

"You gotta tell me what you need, okay?" Dean said, close to Cas's ear. "If you need me to go faster or slower, or harder, or be softer. You do that for me?"

Cas nodded. His hair was wet with sweat and Dean nuzzled in it, breathing him in.

"You all right?" Dean asked. "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"It's a little overwhelming," Cas grunted out. "But it's not painful."

Dean was careful at first, going slow, keeping his thrusts shallow. Cas was hot and slick like a girl, but tighter, much tighter. The added bonus of no thin layer of latex made the sensation even more intense.

Gradually Dean thrust harder and deeper, and Cas became more vocal. He moaned and grunted, clutching at Dean's shoulder, moving his hips to meet him. Their bodies worked in unison. A few times Cas yelped and Dean took it as a sign to slow down. He never said to stop, though.

"Still with me, Cas?" Dean asked. He kissed him, Cas's mouth hot and pliant. "How's it feel?"

"I think I want you to do it harder," Cas said. He rolled his head on the pillow, turned his face into the cradle of Dean's upper arm wrapped around the side of his head, their entwined hands clutched above him. "Yes, I think."

Dean leaned down and kissed the sweaty, taut tendons of his neck. "You want me to fuck you harder?" he queried against his heated skin.

Cas turned his face to Dean's, breath catching. And then, he seemed to get it. "Yes," he gasped. "Fuck me harder."

Dean complied, driven by the white-hot bolt of want that shot down his spine. He started pounding into him, wet skin slapping, and Cas burst into a loud vocalization of his pleasure. Dean didn't care at that moment who heard. His orgasm built fast and sharp and they were rocking the bed and pounding it against the wall and he couldn't stop.

"More!" Cas demanded, and his nails sunk into the back of Dean's hand. "Dean, please!"

"Yeah," Dean panted against his ear. "That's it, say my name."

"Dean!" It was very nearly a shout.

Dean twisted his fingers in Cas's hand and gnashed his teeth, eyelids fluttering. He'd wanted it to last a hell of a lot longer but he couldn't fight the urge. He slammed up into Cas's body and came, pulsing, hot, so much, so hard. He pushed his face into the pillow next to Cas's head and moaned through it, hips jerking, helpless as he flooded into him.

"Fuck, Cas! Fuck. God!"

Cas panted, squirming underneath him, still needing, gripping desperately at him.

Dean quickly pushed up on his arm before the rush left him, unhooked his hand from Cas's, and reached between them. Cas was so hard, so hot and wet. Dean gripped him tight and stroked him, fast and smooth, cock still buried and pulsing inside him.

"That's it, oh fuck, Jesus yeah," Dean urged breathlessly. Cas's eyelids were drooping so low they were nearly closed, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. He clutched helplessly at Dean's arms, his thighs clutched tight around Dean's sides. "You can come now. It's gonna feel so good. Let it go, Cas."

Dean felt Cas's orgasm start internally before his cock even started jerking in Dean's hand, his muscles rippling and tightening around Dean's cock. Cas's mouth fell open but he didn't make a sound, until the first thick spurt striped across Dean's knuckles, then he cried out.

"That's it," Dean said, triumphant. "There you go Cas, there you go."

Dean had never seen anyone have such a full-bodied orgasm. Cas shook and jerked and bucked underneath him, his cock throbbing out generous pulses of fluid, in counterpoint to the contractions Dean experienced around his still mostly-stiff cock. If he had the ability, Dean would have creamed Cas's insides all over again at the sensation. Cas moaned deliriously, deliciously, and Dean kissed him, sucking at his swollen lips and caressing his tongue across his.

When Cas finally slumped against the bed, Dean pushed off him and carefully slid out. Cas gasped and then groaned, legs going slack around Dean's hips. Dean's t-shirt was soaked with sweat and sticking to Cas's chest.

Dean extricated himself and rolled away, panting, coated in sweat as well. The room was nearly dark. Dean looked down at his hand, and though he couldn't really see, he could feel the thick strands of goo between his fingers.

"Clean up on aisle ten," Dean said. "So you're officially de-hymenated. What did you think of human sex?"

"I…I didn't have a hymen."

"Sorry. I mean, de-virginized. How did it feel?"

"It was pleasant." Cas's voice sounded thick and slurred. "I'm very wet. And I'm leaking."

"Yeah, it's a messy affair. You can get a shower, though."

They lay there for a few minutes, cooling off and calming down. The sweat and other fluids on Dean's skin slowly congealed into an unpleasant film. He was buzzing all over. At least for the moment the troubles of the world seemed far away. But they'd come rushing back all too soon, he knew.

Cas shifted and rolled toward Dean. Dean could only vaguely see his face in the gloom.

"Thank you Dean," he said. "I enjoyed having sex with you."

Dean smiled. "I enjoyed having sex with you too, angel face."

"We must go in a few hours."

And there was reality, creeping in around the edges already.

"I know," Dean said softly. "Trust me."

***

Dean went downstairs to get his bag while Cas showered, dressed in his jeans and the discarded flannel Cas had worn, unbuttoned and hanging open. If he ran into anyone he'd say he was going to get a shower. As it happened, Sam was stretched out on the couch. Dean avoided his gaze, silently scooped up his bag from next to the couch, and turned to leave.

"Hey, Dean?"

Dean paused in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at him.

Sam sat up on one elbow, brow furrowed.

"What?" Dean asked. He felt they were past words, that any they said now would be pointless.

"Um. I know it's none of my business, but…"

Dean turned his face away, heat flaring in his cheeks. "No," he said gruffly. "It's not, so don't ask."

A beat of silence. "It's just. I thought I heard--"

"I said," Dean cut him off. "Don't _ask_."

Dean didn't leave the doorway, though he wanted to. He heard Sam shift on the couch, maybe lying back down, maybe sitting up. If he got up though, Dean would run away.

"I'm glad you have someone," Sam said, his voice pitched low. "That's all. I'm glad you won't be alone."

Dean fled and went up the stairs, toward the muffled sound of running water.


End file.
